InBetween
by Outcast-Loser
Summary: They released him to the mortal world after finding him in the realm between Myth and reality-but what would become of the boy with the heaven in his eyes? Erik\Charles AU
1. Forgotten

**AN:** Well If you don't want to be bored you can scroll on down to the notes (Which help, yes?)

Um...This idea was spawned as me and my Sister (from another Mister lol) and I had a Cherik chat at he beach XD She brought up a fic we've both read, where Charles says Erik has the body of a "Greek God" and then...this was spawned XD She owns the idea, I just...evaluated it :P

**NOTES: **This has some Greek Mythology in it. Me and Jaz, my sister, BIIIIIG mythology nerds. STILL, I tweaked some things for this story. it _is_ an AU, afterall. So here's this little note: _Athena:_ goddess of wisdom and arts; _Apollo:_ god of prophesy, music and healing; _Hephaestus:_ god of fire and crafts; _Hades _is the god of the underworld, nymphs where sometimes spirits or lesser-gods with the power of their element (water nymphs, earth nymphs, etc.) and FINALLY _Kharites _are three sisters that goddess grace, beauty, etc. and Tisiphone is the Erinyes (or Fury) known as the Avenger

****Takes deep breath** **Done!

If I must, I'll put up a note for more info on the characters! For now, Enjoy~ (BTW Im a little sad about not having Erik, but he's all over the next chapter, and Baby Charles? He makes up for that, too :3 )

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><p>The leaves beneath the sandals crunch under the weight of her step. Thin ribbons of gold hold the sandals to her feet and wrap around her ankles in shiny bands. Her long, defined legs lead up to a short, billowy white shirt that is held together by a golden broach on her shoulder. Her long, flowing brown hair flows in long, untamed strands behind her. Sharp eyes watch the small bundle of faded blue that sits rolled up only a few yards away. She walks with careful steps, wary of the strange object that lays over a bed of brown and orange leaves.<p>

"What a strange thing to find in this place," Athena speaks to herself, resting on her bent legs in order to see better. Her outrageously tall physique, she nearly towered over 8'6'', completely shrouds the bundle in darkness. She picks up the bundle of powder blue and carefully peels back the layers of cloth before revealing the infant within. She stares for a moment before gasping in surprise.

The little baby gazes at her hazily.

"He has the heavens in his eyes" She breaths. A snapping branch shifts the goddess into a defensive pose, muscles tensing. Athena turns quickly, holding the baby protectively against her bosom, as she practically forms a long sword out of thin air. Twin eyes of equal intense amber meet in a heated gaze and, slowly but surely, the sword turned to dust. Athena didn't speak a word as she passed her brother, bumping shoulders as she curtly continues.

Apollo catches the goddess by the wrist and turns around, a stern look on his face.

"You promised you wouldn't come through here. You've been continuously forbidden from entering the 'in between'." Apollo growls. "You know what they can do to you if they find out," Apollo glares at the bundle in her arms. "And what they'll do to what you _find_."

"If he's stuck in this realm then perhaps there is a reason I have found him." Athena says gently, shifting the baby in her arm. Apollo glares at the baby and she turns, dead set on leaving.

"She died. Aquataine, that water nymph?" Apollo says slowly, almost unsure. His words, however, seem to strike a nerve with Athena and she stopped. "The one that was bearing my child. She died and the Kharites-those three ditzy sisters, have her as we speak. I came to fetch you so we could go to M'Lord and have her ritualized but if you come bearing the child he will not be pleased."

Athena pauses because, in her mind, she knows he's right. "Then I will claim him as my child..." she hesitates. "I will go to the fates, you with your child as well. At least then, he will have a chance"

"That's foolish!" Apollo shouts, stepping forward "You will both be cast out of Olympus!" His face is the epitome of rage, though his eyes are shining with worry.

"But brother, the child is special! He shan't remain in the In-Between, and once we see his fate then I will deliver him to the mortals. Until then he is ours" Athena's strict tone leaves nothing to debate. Apollo glares heatedly and continues to walk past his sister. "You will not utter a single breath of this." Athena turns, nerves on end. "Apollo!" She shouts in exasperation.

"I will not speak of this, dearest sister." Apollo says over his shoulder, voice laced with sarcasm. "We will meet once more when you have calmed your temper at the Fates' dwelling. I shall bring my daughter along, as well." He waves a hand and then disappears. Athena lets out a breath, her muscles relaxing. Still, she knows, this is hardly the beginning, and with any luck the child will be cleared for going into the mortal world.

__"Sleep and dream my lovely child._ _I'll give you the city of Alexandria in sugar" __Athena gently sings. Her voice, ever gentle, echoes in the silence of the In-Between. The trees begin to groan and a symphony of crunches and snaps follow in the wake of her steps.__ "All of Cairo in rice._ _And rich Constantinople._ _And there you shall reign for three years.__" She begins to hum, rocking the child in her arms. "_Perhaps when you're born you will be a great hero, all are son of god, but you shall reign the greatest._" She hums once more, and disappears within the darkness of the canopy of the native woods.

* * *

><p>Apollo had walked into the darkness of the woods and came out to the light of Helios, who laid lazily amongst the clouds. Walking carefully, trying to make himself aware of each individual, Apollo let out a relaxed sigh and began to walk towards a not far-off lake. Once there, the god let go of the animal hides he had been wearing, threw off the heavy gold gauntlets and carefully removed his laurels. Apollo walked into the lake, stepping into the cool water, pondering everything that had transpired up to that moment.<p>

"Athena better know what she's doing..." he mumbles to himself, floating through the water. The pristine, crystallized water made even the floor visible, and he kept his gaze on the shining minerals on the lake floor. He submerged himself completely for a few seconds and rose, taking a few cleansing breaths. "No sense in delaying the inevitable." He says with tired conviction. He starts off on his long and tiring swsim deeper into the lake before what seemed like a thick line on the horizon becomes a small island only yards away. A soft singing and giggling reaches Apollo's ears before he steps foot on the island.

"_Sleep and dream my lovely child,_" The first sister sand, her long blonde hair following her light steps.

_"I'll give you the city of Alexandria in sugar"_ The second sister hummed, her hands moving fluidly like liquid.

"_All of Cairo in rice; and rich Constantinople. And there you shall reign for three years!_" The final sister sang, laying on her stomach in the grass. In front of her was a small baby girl, skin dusted a rich indigo blue. "Just like her mother's" Apollo thinks sadly, walking ever closer to the trio. His steps falter as the trio lay on the grass beside his darling baby girl.

"Oh! It's Lord Apollo!" The first sister shouts and jumps, pale cheeks tinged a light pink. Her large violet eyes shine as he awkwardly offers a 'hello'. "Come to retrieve your daughter, I suppose?" She asks with a lightness in her tone. The second sister jumps to her feet, fiery hair bouncing even after she remains standing.

"No, not little Mystique!" She squeals. Her two sisters break into loud laughter at the blatant show of attachment. "She's already become a part of us!" She squeaks in embarrassment. Apollo quirks a small smile as he kneels before the baby-_his_ baby- and gingerly picks her up.

"Thank you." He whispers, eyes not leaving the snoozing infant. "Really, all of you..."

The third, and youngest, of the three sisters looks up at him from under raven bangs, her violet eyes darkened by the veil of hair. "We blessed her." She says, though her voice seems to be carried in the wind. "She's blessed with beauty, both inner and through out, but her form will take the shape of whomever she wants. And in song she will heal, and remain youthful through the years. It is not much, but it's this strength that we blessed her with." The sister says and the faint remnants of a smile plays on her lips.

Apollo bows, a ritual for the gods to thank those that have bestowed a power of some sort to their kin. The three sisters grasp hands and bow as well, the myriad of colors of their hair blurring as they stood and took off in a blur of giggles and humming, of skipping and dancing. Apollo watches them for a moment more before turning his head, keeping his gaze leveled away from the baby within his arms.

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><p>Athena sits upon a large stone just outside the mouth of the Fates' cavern. Her attention is entirely focused on the baby in her arms, and she can't help but feel entranced in the deep pools of aqua that gaze up at her, unwavering and full of curiosity. Many questions flit through her mind at high velocities; how did the baby get in the In-Between? Who did the baby belong to, and did he possess any powers of his own? Lost deep in thoughts, Athena missed the wide, gum-showing smile that the baby made as he giggled.<p>

Apollo walked onto the clearing before the land have way to the rocks and then the crashing waves. He took his time to carefully step down from the slight rise he had landed in down to the rockier, more unstable grounds below. Afraid to jostle the sleeping girl, Apollo summoned some of his power to leap to the flattest rock that protruded a few feet ahead and some yards below. Landing safely, Apollo turned and saw that he was, indeed, a tad early as Athena hadn't yet arrived. He sighed and sat beside a large stone and decided to wait.

Athena watches, eyes alight in delight, as the baby boy tipped his head back and looked around with those impossibly big, round blue eyes. A few small wisps of thin, wavy brown hair came out of the tight blanket and fell on his forehead. Her lips quirked into a smile as the baby made a small little noise of amazement, his eyes falling on the side of the rock. She laughed and dipped her arms, making the baby giggle before raising him up and hugging him to her chest. The baby blinked twice before yawning and settling in a calm, far-off look to it's blushing face.

"Sister? How long have you-?" Apollo starts, clearly surprised. His voice startles the goddess and she turns, nearly stumbling off the rock.

"Ah, er-well you... I've been here all along, and you...?" She speaks, obviously confounded at how close they had been yet not seen each other.

"Ah, pay it no mind. Let us enter?" Apollo gets up and fixes the infant in his arms, waving his free arm before him to let her pass. Athena scoffs and enters, bowing her head slightly in order to enter through the small opening. Her brother, whom towers over nine feet, has more trouble than her. Once they enter, their sight is lost to the darkness. They walk on in pure instinct, listening for any creature that may enter.

Somewhere within the dark alcove they found the hazy glow of a candle as they walked on, followed by another until they finally reached a grand, chiseled domed room. In the center, surrounded by a multitude of candles that threw a faint light around the three sisters that stood in the center, destroying the darkness that seemed to crawl around the light.

Clotho, the spinner of the thread of life, was standing the tallest, with a long white robe and pearly hood pulled over her outrageously long, tangled blonde hair. The long, golden thread then hung into Lachesis' hands, the sister that measures, with untidy, boyish brown hair. Lastly was Atropos, who sat on a flat stone with a pair of shears in one hand and the golden thread in another. This sister, however, had fiery orangey-red hair that stopped only past her breast, contrasting greatly against her robe, tied only at the throat and hanging on desperately to her smaller form.

These were the Fates, those who controlled the life of man; in good and evil, in life or death.

"Who comes into our humble abode?" Clotho asks, her back turning to those that had entered.

"Dear sister, 'tis none other than Lord Apollo and Mistress Athena." Lachesis clarifies, her voice sweet yet bitter. She looks up with a glance at the duo that walk closer still, sapphire eyes narrowing.

"But they come with new life." Atropos smiles gingerly, shifting her legs and nearly revealing her flawless body. "Bring them here, you wish for us to read their threads, am I not right?" Her hazel eyes hold a sadistic gleam of humor that makes Athena want to shudder. The youngest sister puts down the sheers and reaches for the first child, Apollo's baby, and gently presses her thumb against the blue cheek.

"What a darling, her string shines a most beautiful silver!" Clotho exclaims, her hands and feet working on the spinner as more golden thread is weaved. "She is of pure heart, and will be such in her life." Clotho's brown eyes study the child once more before returning to the task at hand. The second sister's blue eyes haven't moved from the bundle of blankets (and, coincidentally, the infant within). Lachesis returns the baby to Apollo who holds her close to his chest. Athena makes to move the baby but suddenly Lachesis is up and grabbing him, prying the baby away from the goddess.

"Wait-"

A hand covers Athena's mouth and she gazes into her brother's glare. She should know better than to raise her voice to a Fate, but the strange action had caught her off guard.

Lachesis is standing before Atropos, speaking in hushed whispers and pressing her thumb against the baby's cheeks, up to his temple and then to the center of his forehead, brushing the loose strands of curls there. Athena's heart is racing as the Fates whisper amongst themselves in almost intelligible whispers. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Lachesis hands the baby back to Athena who takes him gently against her bosom once more. Lachesis eyes remain on the baby's, and it seems as if though she's speaking but no words are being uttered. The baby's clear eyes are staring right back, and suddenly the tension that surged breaks and the Fates sits down and continues to measure the golden thread.

"He will live a long, good life." Atropos says, her hazel eyes downcast. "and die at an old age, happy and carefree." Athena releases her breath and smiles to herself. She turns to Apollo and nods, and the two bow before leaving from where they had entered. As their footsteps die away, the Fates give a long and meaningful glance to eachother.

"I wonder," Clothos speaks aloud," Why the child bared no thread?" The question hangs in the air, heavy and unanswered.

None of them know.

"Do you suppose he is an immortal?" Lachesis asks, changing the thread into a brilliant silver.

"No." Atropos answers simply, shaking her head. "But lying to a Goddess, perhaps it wasn't the best. If he has no thread, he has no life to live. And those _eyes_..." Atropos trails off.

"He bares the heavens in those eyes. There is no mistaking it, that child is special. He has the right to chose on his own whether he be good or evil, and he bares the burden of being from neither this world or the other." Lachesis sighs and hands the silver thread to Atropos.

"Perhaps he wasn't meant to be born at all?" Atropos proposes.

She cuts the thread.

* * *

><p>"Go forth and fetch her, the last descendent of Tisiphone 'The Avenger' and bring her here. Hades has had his eyes on her for a moment too long and I fear for her." The voice is strong and powerful, leaving no room for protest.<p>

"M'Lord, and my child?"

"She shall be sent along with that of Athena's." There it is again; that absolute control. There is no choice.

"Yes. I have only one wish, may I present it?"

"Of course."

"Cast them to the mortals together."

A pause, hesitation; a smoldering silence stretches on longer than necesary.

"Then it shall be. Go now and recover a woman by the name of Emmanuel Eisenhardt and bring her here; she is an asset we must protect from Hades. He is planning something, my son, and I know it."

There's another moment of lingering silence and finally, Zeus speaks once more.

"What name has been given to the boy? At least this way the father may name him accordingly." There's a light undertone to his words, something along the lines of humor but marked by cynicism. "And the girl?"

"My daughter is to be named Raven." A pause. "Her mother's favorite animal." He silence is unnerving, and he feels himself wanting to break it by any means necessary.

"The boy?" Zeus presses on.

"My sister has decided," Apollo hesitates, but only for a moment. "His name is Charles."


	2. Forward

**AN: **A few time-skips (Er, only two, I think haha) We finally see what's happening to Erik, A little interesting happening and things go south for the Boy with the heavens in his eyes

Things get... a bit dark. **(5:50pm )**Err... well we decided to split this chapter into two (VEERRRY LONG) and I don't want too many time skips :I (Now: where are our cookies! XD)

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><p>His eyes are blurry with sleep as the groggy little six year old tries to awaken from a dreamless slumber. His stoney hazel eyes scan the chipped and peeling ceiling along the small stars and he attempts to wipe the sleepy-vision with his palm. Erik grumbles something to himself as he sits up, shaking his head and blinking the urge to lay back and snooze away the rest of the evening that is left.<p>

There's loud clamoring somewhere down the hall; Erik briefly remembers why he's woken up. A loud slam reverberates within the walls and Erik feels a slight panic begin to weight down on his small body. He swallows thickly and looks around, finds his old shoes and slips them on his feet. He's up and out the door in a slight scramble ion less than a second and in the hall in another.

A silhouette forms in the near-cavernous hallway (or perhaps his young minds finds that the few feet of hallway are too much when in a panic) and covers the light from the doorway. Erik comes to a halt and swallows thickly, feels the knots in his stomach tighten to unbearable lengths and-

It's his mom.

Only, her hair isn't in it's usual tidy bun, it's loose and falling on her shoulders like pitch-shadowed hands clawing on her shoulders in tangles, her calm and comforting emerald gaze have been replaced by a clouded, frantic chartreuse and she looks like she's been _crying_ and despite the loud noises and the hectic appearance of his mother the _tears _are all that Erik can focus on.

Somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchen the drawers begin to rattle, the pots and pans begin the shake and titter without reason.

"Max, darling," She begins, temporarily forgetting her own _rule_ and Erik flinches as she turns and swallows, only to look back at her young son with _tears _sliding down her cheeks," Go-go to my room honey and stay real, real quite."

A spoon bends in the drawer.

A pot flattens into a paper thin sheet of metal.

"Mommy?" Erik asks, his voice cracking. He gets closer only to have his mother turn her back on him, fist clenching the doorway tightly, her knuckles turning white.

"M-Max..." Is her almost silent whisper.

He remembers; remembers the time when _Max_ was his name until his momma told him that he could be _Erik_, and not Max anymore. Like the people that would taunt and tease him for having no father, that would call him a _freak_ and a _bastard_, there were _bad_, bad people looking for them both. If he wasn't _Max_ then they would be safer.

But she just calmed him _Max._

"Go to my room" She whispers, leaning on the wall and sagging against it. "Stay quite. Stay _Safe._"

Erik opens the door and walks slowly into the bedroom, his eyes blurring. He sniffs and closes his eyes, willing him to be strong. If not for himself then for the mother that raised him alone. Still, teh fear and panic gnaws at his insides relentlessly, and the six year old, astute as he is, finds himself thinking that he's going to end up going against his mother's wishes.

The door shuts completely on it's own as the young boy sits against the corner, convincing himself that the warmth on his cheeks aren't tears and that the emptiness he feels in his heart and the led that has sunk in his stomach aren't foreboding omens.

Erik was never a good liar.

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><p><em>The man is leaning against a high balcony, windows open and curtains billowing in the icy breeze. The moon hangs low tonight, a dim glow behind ashen clouds. There's the faint rustling of leaves. It's chilly outside, almost freezing, and not even breathing hot air onto his own hands are making them any less numb. The wind is howling, like the lone wolf, and it's gripping at his arms, biting into his skin with its chill, making him shiver constantly.<em>

_A noise startles Brian Xavier from his spiraling thoughts, and he instantly recognizes it as footsteps._

_He doesn't flinch at the sight of the tall, sleek and elegant silhouette of a woman in ancient garbs in the doorway. The cigarette in his hand is raised to his lips, the rush of nicotine he inhales helps to soothe the nerves, calm his mind and anchor him. The smoke dances before his eyes before drifting away, becoming one with the night sky._

_"You know who I am." The woman speaks softly, her voice carried by the wind._

_"Yes, I know as much," Brian responds, dropping the butt and snuffing out the dying embers with the heel of his polished shoe. "Goddess of wisdom, Athena, If I am not mistaken."_

_"Not many still believe in the old ways"_

_The silence between them thickens; the wind blows a little harder now. Lips quirk at one end into an almost-smile._

_"Not many have faith at all" He sighs and the heat of his breath leaves another kind of signature; the mist fades quicker than the smoke he exhaled. 'Death fades much slower than life' he thinks bitterly. "Why have you come?"_

_A smile graces the goddess' lips.  
><em>

* * *

><p>There's silence; deafening silence that seems much, much worse than whatever noise could be spreading through the small house. Erik finds himself more perturbed by the almost ringing silence than anything else. He keeps his eyes shut and his face against his knees, hands coming around to cover his ears. The tears haven't stopped, and his throat is so tight it almost <em>hurts<em>, his heart is beating so loudly he's afraid his mom can hear it in the hallway and his fear keeps spiking despite futile efforts to remain calm.

The metal bed rails shiver; the light fixture flickers on and off.

Then it shatters; the overbearing silence is at once missed at the high pitched wails that crashes into Erik's mind, strangled, startled and _painful_.

The light bulb snaps; the drawer in the nightstand is tossed open and Erik is on his feet, rushing to the door in rage, anger, fear, fury, horror and-and-

Someone made his momma _cry._

Someone hurt the only family he _has._

He can't see straight with the veil of anger and hurt and _fear_ that is curtaining the more rational (or as rational as a six year old could possibly _think_) that's clouding his mind and Erik hardly registers tripping over his own feet as he shuffles out the door nor the fact that the door in question opened on it's own volition.

There are two men, one beside his mother in the living room and another standing perhaps a few feet before them. They're tall, only scant millimeters away from scraping the room with their _ridiculous_ golden helmets. The one beside his mother stood with one leg forward, a round, red and embellished with strange, foreign character he had only begun to learn about in school. The man's jaw was set, his eyes cold as they glared daggers at the other man.

* * *

><p><em>Brian is standing before the incubator- a small box of thin, clear glass, with wires and tubes flitting in and out of the container. There was a hissing-whirling sound, low and muffled, as iron lungs pumped breath in and out of the infant within the clear, protective clutches. Brian's eyes remain shut, almost afraid to see the peaceful, calm expression on his son's dying face.<em>

_Charles: six months old with less than a 5% chance of surviving whatever it is that plagues his form._

_Charles, who hasn't breathed on his own volition, who hasn't opened his eyes to the world outside and hasn't stirred since birth._

_A hand gently presses against the glass; the goddess smiles as she releases a breath of air. "He will survive, he will live." She speaks calmly, and closes her eyes at the sound of the man's shaky exhale. her hand lingers for another second against the clear barrier before dropping to her side. Behind her cloak, her arm shakes and her mind races with the question she has to ask._

_"What have you there?" Brian asks, sending Athena an almost wary glance. She's completely calm and composed on the outside but within she is in turmoil. Finally, after a moment of silence and machines working, she speaks._

_"I have to ask you, for the sake of my brother Apollo and the other gods that sit in the heavens and watch down upon the world; I beseech you to please play caretaker to the daughter of a god and a mystical being" Athena bows and moves her cloak, revealing the blue baby that she cradles against her chest. "She is special, and I beg of you to hide her from the darkness of the world, and protect her innocence. This is a request, that you may chose to deny or accept."_

_ Brian smiles at this._

_"Who am I to refuse?"  
><em>

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><p>The second man was just as tall and lean as the other, minus the bronze-gold armor. His robes where dark and ashen, his eyes a cold, ice blue. Just the set of his shoulders, the position of his feet and the stoic mask above the bubbling madness-the cynical glee made Erik want to shrink back and hide in his corner.<p>

The man was the devil incarnate.

Sin in the flesh.

Personified evil.

Erik suddenly found himself reevaluating all those whispered tales of the boogeyman as he shivers and freezes in fear, unable to take a step forward or a step back. The silence is nearly smoldering, and Erik finds entranced by the suffocating quite that is all around them. His lips tremble, his body quivers and finally he blinks.

A tear falls.

* * *

><p><em>He's crying, really crying and the sound makes Brian's heart flutter. The machine has stopped, and the various fluids no longer circulate through the tubes. They're programmed to stop once the baby's level are healthy and they have done just that. Brian's eyes tear up as he places a hand against the glass longingly. <em>

_His Charles, alive and well..._

_Little Raven stirs in her sleep but doesn't awaken from her slumber. Brian's heart fills with joy; he nearly lost his son, and now he's alive and has gained another life. It seems surreal, and in all honesty he hopes he hasn't fabricated the entire turn of events but the wailing doesn't stop and the bundle in his arms are as warm and alive as himself._

_Charles' eyes open and the crying stops, reduced to small whimpers and sobs. The tears in his eyes haven't fallen but cling desperately to small lashes and Brian's heart melts at those clear, blue eyes._

* * *

><p>The armored man raises his shield, steps forward and wraps his free arm around his mother. There's a sharp gust of wind,a cold chill like a crushing, arctic wave has drowned his whole body in it's depth.<p>

He's falling, falling and the darkness seems to consume him.

The boogeyman smirks as his small body collapses in the bitter frost. His eyes gleam, a smile that's too sadistic, too wide stretches past the man's lips. He hears a harsh voice speak, whispering in his ears and he's lost to it all.

"You, my dear boy, are coming with _me_" A small chuckle follows, "and we're going to have fun until they give me what I want. Too bad she didn't tell that stupid idiot that she's had a _child. _"

Erik wants to cry for his mommy, but his mouth doesn't open.

He wants to cry but his eyes stay shut.

He wants this nightmare to be over, but it's only begun.

* * *

><p><strong>...xXx...Six Years Later...xXx...<strong>

* * *

><p>He breaths in slowly, letting the air rush through his body and fill his lungs and cool his body and mind. He feels a soft touch against his elbow and cracks an eye open to gaze at the small form standing beside him. Raven's blue eyes capture his, pink lips curled into a comforting smile. Charles relaxes at her presence and nods, but he doesn't move from his place. Raven's pale complexion begins to darken and the scales on her shoulders and face begin to reveal themselves. She sends Charles a playful glare as her eyes slowly morph from blue to green and finally their original yellow hues.<p>

"Charlie, do it." She commands, jutting her hip, bending her arm and placing her hands on her hips with a pout on her lips. _'You promised.'_ She thinks, slowly shifting back to her blonde haired and blue eyed form.

_'I know_, Raven, I know' Charles' voice replies in her mind, gentle and forlorn. Raven sighs and grabs hold of his hand in her's (She finds immense pleasure in teasing her brother with the fact that she's taller than him already, but keeps those remarks to herself for the moment) and together they step forward and open the grand maple doors. There's a gentle nudging in her mind and Raven rolls her eyes and allows the connection to form tentatively between the two. Charles, as they have _both_ learned, connects to her mind when faced with extreme emotions, she helps center and calm his mind. She smiles at him as, together, they walk up to the wooden desk.

"Papa Brian," Raven speaks up in a fake, sweet voice. A head peaks out from behind a mountain of papers and grins at the sight of the two young ones.

"Come around, speak to me. What is it?" Brian asks, turning in his leather chair. Raven practically drags Charles across the desk with her, and the young girl is huffing by the time they face their 'father'.

"Charles has something he would like to say to you." Raven begins and takes a step back, giving her brother the spotlight. Charles is in a slight panic by now,from what Raven can feel, and the silence in the room continues to grow. Their father looks slightly bemused as he looks between the two siblings. "Charles..." comes Raven's voice anew, a threat underlying the sweet tone. A wave of comfort passed between the two and Charles felt the distinct pressure of a hand on his shoulder.

"I-I...I have, _ah_, b-been hearing some _things_ and it's-it is _umm..._" Charles mumbles, cheeks flaring with blush. His hand raises to comb through his wavy brown hair, a finger brushing against a curl on his forehead (Raven knows that it's a nervous habit, and she waits for the breathless laugh any moment now). "Ahh, m-maybe it'd be b-better If I...just show you?" Charles' voice trails off and he frowns, presses a finger against his temple and scrunches his face.

_"I can hear people."_ Charles says, only his lips do not move. _"I can hear what they think and-and talk to them...like this."_

A terse silence spreads and Charles' hand drops, his eyes close and he let's out a shuddering breath. The hand holding his tightens and Charles feels the pinprick of tears under his closed lids. _"Charles, if you can hear me then why are you so shaken? You should know that I will never disown you. Your powers, your sister's, they're blessings from the gods. You two are my little blessings."_ The strong but comforting voice fills Charles' mind and despite all that he's said the tears start to fall.

He's just _that_ happy.

The next few moments are a blur of tears and smiles and Raven giggling but soon enough they're in Charles' room, laying on the carpet with a blanket covering their feet. Charles is pointing at the little stars he painted on his ceiling and Raven is following his finger with sleep-hooded eyes. Charles laughs and shuffles about, moving the blanket to cover her body. Raven quickly falls asleep, but Charles stays up.

He's been feeling it for a long time now, and Charles doesn't think he can chalk it down to his 'gift'. It's like another person, another set of thoughts and feelings bubbling in his mind. It's almost like a calm insanity, and Charles is afraid.

_They're burning his hands with heated metal rods. The skin is blistering but not bleeding, and the pain is stinging, causing half-restrained shouts of pain to wrench out of his mouth. The pain recedes past his shoulders down to a low thrumming pain, but his hands-oh god he can't even try to look at them because seeing them will make the pain worse. His throat is raw with the hours of screaming and he can't tell how long it's been going on-oh god, how long has he been here, been tortured and he can't think at the pain in his hand intensifies and the metal rod is shifting through his blistered palm._

Charles can't stop crying as the pain grows and grows; fear and panic along with anger bubble beneath his chest and he's powerless to stop the flood of emotions and _pain_ that race through him. His teeth are biting down on his lip, drawing the tang of blood but he's numb to it all. All he can feel is this alien pain and emotions that threaten to take over.

Raven is gasping beside him, sweating and whining in her sleep. Charles shuffles away, trying to get far on his hands and knees but the pain wracking through his body is almost crippling. he gasps in pain and falls, his face pressing against his arms and his limbs shaking. He's crying and each tear adds another level of pain, of _disgust_ and Charles wants it to stop, he wants the pain to end but it doesn't and he can't bear it, he can't continue and the words falling from his trembling lips are not his own, he can't even understand the _language_ but he can't control himself, he _just can't stop-_

"Helfen Sie mir! Bitte, jemand ... Mama, bitte ... komm zurück für mich ... BITTE! Jeder!" Charles is gasping and he cries a little harder because, although he doesn't know the language, he knows what hes saying. _"Help me! Please, someone...mom, please...come back for me...PLEASE! Anybody!"_

Charles cries harder because he can't stop them from feeling the pain.

He cries harder because he knows that no one is coming.

Charles can't even pin-point where the pain is coming from-it's _everywhere_. The room is blurring and darkening in and out of focus, but there's something warm around him, someone familiar and it's anchoring his mind and fighting of the waves of pain\disgust\despair that's throttling his little body and mind.

Raven is speaking something in his ear, her voice is breathless and frightened and all Charles captures are snippets of what she's whispering in his hair.

"_Saw it...him, the man in black...has him...pain, so much...crying...saw it...Charles...stop the pain... Erik, ErikErikErikErik-saw it saw it saw it please...help, someone...saw him saw him saw him..._"

They hold each other, crying and tired and confused, until they can't think, they can't feel and somewhere in-between the tears and whispers they fall into a dreamless sleep.


	3. Numb

**AN:**This chapter may be shorter than the rest since (as stated in the previous chapter) it was supposed to be part of chapter 2. ANYWAY it get's dark. And Angsty. And a few flashbacks about what has happened since Charles was six and Erik was 12. Enjoy~

Er... I hope the flashbacks don't bother you much X\ ANd hopefully this explains _some_ things!

* * *

><p>He's blocking her out.<p>

Raven knows that their connection is still there; she feel's Charles' presence in her mind, just at the edge if her consciousness. It's warming, comforting, just like when he coos her to sleep after another vision.

She trips and stumbles on the carpet. Charles helps her up and quickly continues to pull her down the hallway before tossing open the door to a partially empty guest room. He shuffles quickly to the closet and slides the door to the left, motioning for the 12 year old to enter.

_((There are footsteps in the hallway, and each step is like a dark threat left hanging in the air))_

Raven's throat constricts painfully as she settles against the closet wall, hugging her knees. Tears are spilling down her morphing cheeks and a shuddering sigh escapes her parted lips. She looks up at Charles, afraid and confused.

"He won't find us here, Charles. C'mon!" She whispers frantically. A wave of comfort washes over here. This isn't right. She knows, _she knows_ that Charles is just as fearful as she is. Charles smiles at her kindly, and she knows without having to be a telepath. Her eyes go impossibly wide and she can't move a muscle as the door slides shut, leaving only thin bars of light across the darkness.

Charles stands before the single bed, facing the heavy wooden door as it violently swings open.

_"He's pure evil!"_ Raven thinks pointedly at Charles. She feels a tug of amusement from their connection. A dark shudder crawls down her spine. Charles' voice is low as he locks eyes with the man standing in the doorway.

_"He's our step-father."_

* * *

><p><em>They got the news a week after Charles' tenth birthday. He knows before the dark Scion tC rolled into the driveway, the gravel crunching under the silver-rimmed tires.<em>

_A tall, well-built and gruff man would stand on their doorstep with a false gaze of anguish, a sorrowful frown and rehersed tears as he lies through his teeth._

_"There was an-ah, incident, an explosion at the lab. I'm terribly, terribly sorry" (A choked out sound, somewhere between a gasp and a chuckle) "I'm so sorry, Miss Sharon, but there was nothing I could do. Brian, Brian is dead."_

_His name is Kurt Marko._

_He's the devil._

* * *

><p>"What did you tell your mother?" Kurt growls, his fist pressing against the doorway. His hair is disheveled, eyes fierce and crazed, black shirt rumpled and his body poised at the doorway like an animal about to pounce on its prey. Charles smiles kindly, serving only to add fuel to Kurt's burning rage. The man takes two steps forward, eyes darting around the room.<p>

"I only told her that-" CHarles doesn't even get to finish. The taller, older and heavier man took a step forward and sent is palm crashing against Charles' cheek.

"What do I always tell you?" Kurt shouts, towering before the fallen child. Charles doesn't pay heed to the red imprint on his cheek and looks up at the huffing man.

"Do not speak to mother." Charles replies obediently.

"So what," Kurt bends on his knees as he speaks," was so important that you had to disobey me?" He reaches forward and grabs a fistful of Charles' wavy brown locks, tilting the child's head so that they locked eyes. "Well?" Kurt growls, tightening his hold.

"I told her that, perhaps it would be best if she put that bottle of brandy she had hidden in the back of the closet back in the lounge and slowed on the binge drinking." Charles replies stoically, his wide blue eyes piercing and fierce.

The next slap hurts slightly more than the first.

* * *

><p><em>He can't feel it. <em>

_It's been like this for how long now? A year, two?_

_All his happiness and joy, all those smiles and laughs-it was like they'd be sucked into a dark void, hidden in some chest somewhere and locked away for good. He felt bitter at best-the depraving loneliness that he once felt when he was much younger was replaced by flashes of pain and anguish but now? _

_He felt nothing._

_And whenever the man that replaced the title of his father (but no, he could never replace his true father, the man that loved them when he could, that would spend months away and not send word, the man that-that...)_

_He couldn't feel._

_He stood beside the blonde, petite girl that was Raven and held her hand as she cried and sobbed and whimpered against his shoulder. He watched in, not sadness, but anger as the woman that shunned him and his sister held onto Kurt Marko like a lifeline and wept against his broad shoulder._

_The rain fell all around the sea of black clothes, making up for the tears he couldn't cry._

_It's that same night that Raven tells him that she saw him again-the poor boy that's been in her dreams for so long. Erik, Erik Lehnsherr._

_"He's asleep" She tells him. "A strange man comes to his bed and injects his arm with a clear red liquid. Erik thrashes a bit but he can't wake up." She's crying as she tells him this. He hugs her and slowly the sniffling subsides and is replaced with slow breathing._

_He wishes he can tell her that everything will be fine, smile at her and tell her that even though their father isn't there, he'll protect her just like before._

_But he can't. He feels like he'd be lying to her. He shuts his eyes as he places the blanket he's covered in on Raven and hugs her against him all the same. The cold in the room doesn't affect him one bit._

_And the darkness in the room is nothing compared to the darkness in his heart, the loneliness he feels every day._

* * *

><p>Charles is sprawled on the floor, breathing shallowly through his nose. His mouth tastes of bitterness and iron, of blood and vile. His eyes haven't left his assailant's, and Kurt seems angrier than before. His cheek feels warm (but it doesn't hurt. This pain is nothing, <em>nothing<em> compared to what he used to feel before.) It's been only six hard slaps, each one carrying more strength than the last.

Kurt grins wickedly very suddenly and Charles feels his blood drain. The man's eyes gaze through the room before landing on the closet. Charles feels a wave of _anger\hatred\hostility_ overflow his mind and he bites his lip from abusing his power.

"You know, your momma's always babblin' about some little girl livin' here, your sister Raven..." Kurt's grinning sadistically. "I've personally never seen her, but some of the workers have confirmed it." Kurt turns and stares at Charles wickedly. "Maybe it's time for us to get to know each other, ne _Charlie_?" Kurt walks towards the closet, and both are aware of the heavy breathing and choked out sobs from the closet.

* * *

><p><em>"Raven dear, do you think you can remain in your other form for a moment?" Sharon asks sweetly. Her head is facing the blue, scaly seven year old before her but her eyes are turned away from Raven.<em>

_And then Charles feels it, a steady rush of disgust and disbelief that nearly shocks him. Tears gather in his eyes as Raven shifts to her typical blonde hair and blue eyed form, a grin on her face. Charles knows she's proud to finally have the courage to show their 'mother' her powers. Charles' eyes skim past his sister before landing on Sharon once more._

_'How can this-' Charles is startled at the foreign thought that flashes through his mind. 'And, oh god, what if other's hear of this? I'll never step foot from the house-lock her up? No, Brian will be furious-disgusting. -''_

_At the age of seven and a half, while his sister reveals her true form, and power, to Sharon Xavier, Charles discovered his own power._

* * *

><p>"I told her to clear her mind and realize that she married the worst, most awful filth in the world! A scum!" Charles shouts, standing defiantly behind Kurt, whose hand is splayed flat against the white painted wood of the closet door.<p>

The fist to the stomach knocks Charles to the floor. He can't breath in as the pressure knocked the wind from his lungs and he groans as he turns to face the closet.

_"Everything will be alright" _He tells Raven, not completely sure that he's even _looking_ at her from one of the gaps. His eyes shut tight as a kick is delivered to his ribs, and what he knows should be pain causes tingles up his torso. Breathing becomes a chore and he's more than sure that he's broken a rib already. Still, he can't risk Raven and he closes his eyes, reaches out for the eerily dark mind hovering close. It's hard to lock onto those certain thoughts he wants, needs to find, but once he's sure he has them all he wipes them clean. His mind aches, but he isn't rendered unconscious.

He's only ever done this once before, but if Kurt remembers Raven, then he's failed. He'd have failed Raven. He'd have failed his father.

The next kick is less powerful, but aimed for his face (He realizes much too late that he had been gazing at Kurt blankly). His head snaps as his face crashes against the carpet, forced to look at the closet. His lip is streaming blood rampantly, he can't stop his vision from swimming and his nose-oh _god_-he knows it's broken. But he doesn't cry out. He doesn't truly feel the pain and for once he's glad.

Charles' heart twinges slightly in pain.

He knows Raven is watching.

_"It's okay, Raven. Everything is alright. He'll leave, I'll wash up and we'll sleep together in my room, if you want. I'll read you any story you want, and then we'll fall asleep together in case you have a nightmare. Everything is okay, it's alright. Raven, everything's okay. I'm fine. It's okay, it's okay-" _

And Raven cries harder, hidden in the shadows as Charles continues to whisper soothing things in her mind, sending waves of love and comfort. Despite everything, Raven finds herself calming down, lulled by Charles' soft voice in her mind.

But everything is _not_ okay, nothing is fine because this isn't supposed to be happening; she should be comforting Charles, he's teh one being beaten into a bloody mess before her eyes and Kurt Marko shouldn't be here at all. Brian should be here, tickling Charles' ribs instead of breaking them and she bites her lip to keep from crying out as she closes her eyes and let's Charles comfort her into a false sense of safety.

Because nothing is okay.

* * *

><p>Charles is laying in bed, his head on Raven's small lap as she cards her fingers through his damp hair. His face is bandaged badly, and already there are bruises on his cheeks and his right eye is swollen and purple. His nose is still slightly crooked, his lip bandaged and she can clearly see bandages beneath his button up pajama shirt.<p>

None of the workers ask questions as they helped the son of their master. There's nothing they can do, anyway.

Raven shifts back to her blue form and sighs as tears well up in her eyes. "You're not alone, Charles. You have me." She takes a deep, shuddering breath and closes her eyes. A single tear slips and she doesn't open them, too tired and fatigued. "You have me. I won't leave your side. _You aren't alone._" She repeats, hoping that Charles feels the truth behind her words. She smiles as she remembers that he's asleep and sighs.

As soon as her breathing evens out and her hand goes limp in her slumber, Charles opens his eyes.

_"I know you're here for me, Raven."_ Charles thinks. His fist clenches into a shaky fist. _"But I feel miles away inside."_

* * *

><p>He sees nothing but feels <em>everything<em> at the same time. His head feels like it's full of cotton and his body feels like lead is coursing through his veins. Finally opening his eyes, he surveys everything around him. The roof is a pristine white, the walls following suit. There's a table beside his shoulder with a tray holding a scalpel, a syringe and some kind of small tube connected to a sink by a rubber hose. He groans as he tries to sit up. Instead, he raises his hand and tries to focus his shifting vision on the limb.

He makes a fist and the metal clasp that binds the leather strap across his legs to the slab groans before snapping into a small cube.

Erik glares at his unbound feet.

He feels around his shoulders for a few seconds before feeling another metal clasp on the right side of his ribs. The instant his hand touches it, the clasp melts away and drips onto the counter.

It takes only a few minutes, but Erik is on his feet, standing shakily against the white wall. The metal scalpel, the syringe-all of it calls out to him and he smiles almost bitterly to himself.

That "Shaw" created a freak. A monster.

A monster that now had the ability to fight back.

Erik took one look at the only door in the room and grinned toothily, placing a hand on the wall while raising the other.

With a satisfying crash and clutter, Erik straightened his back.

He was alive.

He was _angry_.

He craved revenge.

And now?

Now he was _free._


End file.
